


Snapshots of the Overachiever

by rae1112



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, United Nations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rae1112/pseuds/rae1112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland is a hard worker and an egomaniac. Alfred Jones is a hard worker and determined to take Arthur down a peg. It doesn't quite work out. </p>
<p>(Done for an office rivalry prompt, where both America and England are kinda mean but like each other anyway)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshots of the Overachiever

“He really thinks he’s something, doesn’t he?” Lovino Vargas grumbled into his espresso. His hands were shaking slightly, mostly due to sleep deprivation, but also partially because of the annoying man who was sneering just outside the office. Lovino’s usually cheerier twin brother, Feliciano, did not scold his brother for his snide comment. Rather, he nodded in agreement.

“Ve, Romano,” Feliciano said, his strange verbal tick sounding odd when his tone was displeased, “he isn’t very...modest, but you can’t keep glaring so obviously.”

But Lovino couldn’t help himself. For right outside his glass wall, prancing around and smirking like a snake, was Arthur Kirkland, back from his meeting with the Secretary General in New York. Apparently, he had received all sorts of praise for the work he’d been doing lately, and as usual, all the compliments went straight to the egotistical bastard’s head. 

Arthur, along with Lovino and Feliciano, worked for the Secretariat branch of the United Nations. They were all hired as staffers in the Geneva headquarters to work in conjunction with the Secretary General of the UN (who was, of course, based in New York). Despite being in the department that directly dealt with the Secretary, neither Lovino nor Feliciano had ever met him in person. Arthur, meanwhile, had personal calls and lunches with the man every month, as he loved to remind everyone in the office. 

It made sense. Arthur was by far the most talented staffer in the Geneva headquarters. He had a head for geopolitics, was good at getting information out of people, and could make himself likeable when the situation called for it. Unfortunately, the situation did not call for it very often.

“Is there a particular reason you’re loitering outside of my office, Kirkland?” Lovino called from his seat, patience finally running out. Of course, the Briton peeked his head through the door innocently, as if he hadn’t been standing around waiting for Lovino to pay him some attention. 

“I’m sorry Vargas, I got distracted by a message,” Arthur said, flashing his phone, “Secretary General wanted my opinion on something, you know how these things go.” he smirked, ignoring Lovino and Feliciano’s reddening faces. “Anyway, Ludwig wants everyone from our part of the office to meet in the conference room in fifteen minutes. Rumour has it, there’s some sort of announcement.” He radiated smugness, clearly convinced Ludwig had called them all in in to publically praise him. Pathetically enough, that probably _was_ why Ludwig was calling them all in, but that didn’t mean Lovino had to like it. 

“Ve, thank you for the update, Arthur,” Feliciano said sweetly, “We’ll join you soon.” Kirkland huffed importantly, nodded in their direction, and left. When he was out of sight, Lovino threw an orange peel in the direction he’d left.

“Smug bastard,” he spat, “As if we don’t know there’s a damn meeting. We happen to be on the emailing list too! Or did he forget, not only pompous pain in the asses work here?!” 

“Come on, Lovino,” Feliciano sighed, resigned to his fate. 

\-------------

Well, sometimes fate was a fickle mistress. 

“Now, I want you all to make him feel welcome here,” Ludwig was saying, stern eyes watching all the occupants in the room. “He’s transferring here from the NY headquarters, and I don’t want the head honchos hearing back that he’s been mistreated,” his gaze zeroed in on Lovino and Arthur, “do I make myself _clear_?” 

But Ludwig had nothing to worry about on Lovino’s end. Because this new guy was making Arthur Kirkland’s face purple like an _aubergine_ (and wouldn’t Kirkland be proud -- British-English was finally sticking in Lovino’s head!), and that was a sure-fire way to make Lovino like anybody. 

His name was Alfred Jones, and he was as American as a stereotype could be--mixed-heritage, broad shouldered, with Hollywood smile (a mantra Feliciano developed after first seeing him). He seemed nice enough, grinning through his introduction, and waving whenever anyone was motioned to. He gave Arthur a bewildered look instead of a wave though, most likely because the Brit was grinding his teeth at him. 

“Well, Alfred Jones, welcome aboard.” Ludwig concluded, shaking Alfred’s hand firmly. Lovino had a feeling this month would be the most fantastic one he’d had all year. 

\---------------

Nobody blinked an eye when a few memos of mid-level importance to Alfred never made it to his desk. It was business as usual for the UN, par for course. It happened to everyone. Perhaps not at the frequency that it was happening to Alfred, but there wasn’t anything to be done. And if a couple of those missed memos caused the young American to miss out on key diplomatic talks with his department, well...no use crying over spilt milk.

\--------------

It was a little more suspect when woodland creatures started to make nests in Alfred’s office. 

“How many goddamn birds can possibly live in the center of Geneva?!” Alfred roared one morning after finding a nestled mother bluejay with her babies on one of his bookshelves, “and why is my window always open when I make sure to deadbolt it every night?”

If anybody noticed Arthur Kirkland, picking twigs out of his hair and smirking maniacally, they did not say. 

\--------------

The minor inconveniences that plagued Jones around the office seemed not to faze him when it came to his job. 

“That was inspired, Alfred!” Ludwig gushed, stars in his eyes, “the way you convinced nearly all the representatives to participate in the talks...I haven’t seen such clever maneuvering on our diplomatic stage since…” he frowned, and looked to the man accompanying him and Alfred on their walk back to the office, “Well, since you, Kirkland!” The German took a heady sip of his coffee, and casually continued, “You may have competition for that promotion after all.”

Both Alfred and Arthur laughed good-naturedly. Arthur’s laugh, however, had a tinge of desperation and hysteria mixed in. 

\--------------

“So what do you do for fun, Kirkland?” Alfred asked one day after a particularly involved diplomatic conference put on by the Secretary General, “I haven’t seen you relax at all during my tenure here. Surely you do something to blow off steam?”

“You have nest in your hair, Jones.” Arthur replied curtly, not looking up from his copy of The Economist.

Alfred’s expression immediately turned dark. “Goddamn stupid birds, how do they--” he pawed at his own hair for a bit before ultimately deciding that without a mirror, it was about as fruitless as their brokered peace agreement between Ukraine and Russia, “I’ll...get to that, thanks for the tip, Artie.”

“My name is Arthur. Kirkland, to you,” Arthur spat, staring even harder at the article he was reading, “and what I do in my spare time is none of your concern.” 

“Geez, with an attitude like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have any friends,” Alfred said, frowning at Arthur’s rudeness. 

“I have plenty of friends, not that it’s any of your business,” Arthur said snootily. 

Alfred shook his head in disbelief, “Look, I was just trying to ask you if there was anything in particular that you...if you liked...ugh it doesn’t matter. Enjoy your perpetual loneliness, Kirkland.”

“And you enjoy your lecture on tardiness, Jones,” Arthur replied, “you were supposed to be at a pre-meet five minutes ago.”

“...I’m sorry what?” Alfred looked wildly around the break room, which had emptied in the duration of their conversation, “I never got a memo, though?!” 

\--------------

It didn’t help that Alfred Jones wasn’t the absolute terrible person Arthur was trying to make him out to be. 

For one thing, he didn’t have to pretend to be likeable, like Arthur occasionally did. He had a natural charisma which drew everyone in the vicinity to him, like a moth to a flame. He had an interesting sense of humor, and fascinating stories with which to entertain diplomats when they weren’t discussing business. Apparently, back in New York, he’d been a personal aide of the Secretary's, and this somehow didn’t turn him into a vain trollop. 

And as if all of those positive qualities weren’t enough, he was probably the most beautiful person Arthur had ever seen. He was mixed-heritage (mother’s family from Mexico, father’s from Britain, though both families had been in the United States for generations), which meant he was naturally tan yet naturally blonde--rare for Arthur’s circle of acquaintances, which could all be boxed into the description of ‘pasty’. Alfred was also relatively tall, lean, and rather muscled, despite the fact that he ate with the gusto of a starved man every meal. 

“AND, he’s got this smile, the likes of which I’ve never seen before...it’s no wonder he’s so popular, I’d be popular too if I smiled like that!”

Lovino had long stopped trying to fix himself an espresso. Instead, he stared incredulously at Kirkland, who had waltzed into Lovino’s office uninvited and proceeded to rant about Alfred Jones’ positive qualities for a solid thirty seven minutes, despite the fact that the two of them had never had a conversation longer than five minutes outside the realm of work. 

“...Sorry, what are you doing in my office?”

“I’m just saying--” Arthur continued, sighing dramatically and making himself at home on Lovino’s chair, “he doesn’t have any particular talent that makes him good at this job! It’s all just things that come naturally, like looks and charisma. That should not get you a promotion!!” 

Lovino shook his head in disbelief, and replied, “Look, I’m not sure why you decided that _I_ was an appropriate choice for a partner in this conversation. But I need you to get out of here.”

Arthur didn’t budge. “But don’t you agree that--”

“No Kirkland, I don’t agree!” Lovino groused, finally losing his patience, “I don’t think Jones is as amazing as you’re making him out to be. He’s good looking, yeah, but so are you, so that’s not exactly going to be a deciding factor, is it?”

Arthur was momentarily stunned. “You think I’m good looking?” 

Lovino shrugged, “I mean, not conventionally I guess, but you smell really good and the timbre of your voice is really nice, and you’re pretty ho--but that’s not the point! None of that is the point! Will you get out of here already, don’t you have imaginary unicorns you could have this conversation with?!” 

“But Jones speaks four languages, fluently!” Arthur said, sitting up straight and making desperate eye contact with Lovino. 

“Don’t you speak five?”

“One of them is Russian!”

“You speak Japanese and Mandarin.”

“Everyone likes him better than me!”

Lovino smirked, “Well, can’t deny that one.” Although, that wasn’t strictly true. The rumour mill had it that Jones could be quite the manipulative shit when he wanted to be. Not that Lovino would ever tell Arthur that; watching him break down in insecurity was a rather amusing way to pass the day. 

“I’ve been here so long, and I’ve worked so hard, he can’t just swoop in and take that away from me, he just can’t!” Arthur cried, dramatically banging his fists on Lovino’s beautiful glass desk.

“Dios mio, Kirkland, calm down,” Lovino said, fearing for his desk’s life, “There are definite negative sides to Jones, okay? I’ve heard he has trouble with keeping all of his memos, and he’s always late because of it--that’s a point against him, right?” Rather than agreeing, Arthur started to shift around in Lovino’s chair rather suspiciously. Lovino ignored him. “And he has all those bird nests in his office. What the hell’s up with that?” 

\--------------

Alfred had never been the type to be ultra-competitive. Sure, he was driven and ambitious, and he quite liked it when he was successful in whatever he pursued. But when he encountered someone who was as good or better at what he did, he tended to respect them, and usually wanted to collaborate with them. 

But this was not the case with Arthur Kirkland. 

“With all do respect, Arthur, I think your plan would be the wrong approach in this case,” Alfred said in a consultation one day when only Arthur and Ludwig were present. Ludwig was listening patiently to Alfred’s suggestions. Arthur was slowly turning purple, as usual. “Few of the diplomats are ready to take the steps you’re proposing. It’s too soon. I’m thinking we wait until Russia’s foreign minister gets here, then we’ll have more clout with the dissenters.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Alfred,” Arthur spat out his first name like poison, mindful of the fact that Ludwig was looking for any sign of dislike between the two. Watching Arthur pretend to respect him was making Alfred’s life twenty times more entertaining, “this is a time-sensitive issue. We don’t have time to coddle dissenters. There aren’t enough of them to derail our objective.” 

“I’ve heard all I need to hear,” Ludwig interrupted, to Alfred’s disappointment, “I’ll Skype the Secretary tomorrow. I want you both to present your points to him in the span of five minutes, okay?” Ludwig began gathering all the documents strewn on the table, “Excellent work today, both of you. I look forward to your presentations tomorrow.” Both of them demurely thanked Ludwig, and waited for him to leave the room. When he did, Arthur exploded, as Alfred hoped he would. 

“Are you really such an idiot, Jones?!” Arthur immediately began yelling, “You know bloody well we can’t wait for some hoity-toity foreign minister to do our jobs for us! You were completely on board with this plan until you found out it was mine, you utter tosser, what gives?” 

Alfred felt his face heat up, just like it had been for the past few weeks every time Arthur Kirkland paid him any attention. He blamed it on indigestion again, and replied, “First, this isn’t exclusively your plan Artie, you shouldn't take credit for things that aren’t yours. Second, I just happened to change my mind. Has nothing to do with you. You should reign in that ego a bit, eh?” 

Arthur, looking deadly, leaned in very close to Alfred’s personal space, “I wouldn’t fuck with me if I were you, Jones.”

Alfred breathed in deeply, “Holy shit, you smell really good.”

Arthur froze. “Sorry, what was that?” 

“Something smells really good. Like churros. I’m going to go buy a churro. You just check yourself and your privilege and learn something about personal space and I’ll see you tomorrow. BYE ARTIE.” 

Maybe there was a good reason Alfred wasn’t competitive very often. He didn’t like the feeling he got when he lost. 

\--------------

The next day, there were three new nests in Alfred’s office.

“Who is doing this?!” Alfred screeched, waving around an abandoned nest, eyes wild and hair a complete mess. All the interns scuttered away in fear, and even senior officers like Ludwig looked rather unsettled, “WHO?!” 

None of Alfred’s memos got lost that day, however. It was counted as a productive day in general, despite the nest incident. 

\--------------

“I’m having...a feeling, of sorts. A romantic sort of feeling” Arthur announced several nights later, at a dimly lit pub on the outskirts of Geneva. Two of his brothers, who’d all flown in to see him before Christmas, choked on the ale they’d been chugging. 

“Jesus, Arthur, don’t scare us like that,” his brother, Dylan, wheezed, “we might start thinking you’re human or something.” 

“I am human!” Arthur defended, “And I’ve had a...feeling before.”

“Sex feelings don’t count, Wart,” his oldest brother, Alastair, grunted, “And look what you’ve fucking done. I’ve spilled this shit ale all over my sweater.” 

“Should I act on it?” Arthur asked, ignoring Alastair’s sweater woes, “Should I tell him, or buy him a pint, pull him, anything?”

“No,” Dylan said sagely, “Feelings are better kept bottled up and ignored. No good can ever come of acting on them. Remember when Alastair had a feeling for that French bird? No, Wart, you’re better off keeping this to yourself.” Both brothers nodded in agreement, and Arthur shrugged, accepting their advice. And had anyone from Arthur’s life been there in that moment, they would have understood Arthur Kirkland a lot better as a person. 

\--------------

Fortunately, Alfred wasn’t nearly as emotionally stunted as Arthur. 

“I have something to say to you,” Alfred announced in the middle of the break room the day before Christmas. Arthur looked up at the American, thick brows arched in confusion. 

“Would you like a podium?” Arthur finally said, taking a sip of his tea. He was grateful he had chosen the table with only one chair, as to give off the most uninviting vibe possible. Sadly for Arthur, things like social convention did not deter Alfred F. Jones. 

“I know you think I’m hot and you like my ass,” Alfred stated matter of factly, and Arthur spewed his tea all over the table.

“I--I’m, I don’t--what?!” he whirled around in his chair wildly, looking for Lovino, “I-I have never said anything about your arse!” 

“So you have said something about me being hot?” Alfred said, smirking cockily, “You should choose your friends more carefully, Kirkland. They can be quite the gossips.”

Arthur continued his fruitless search for Lovino from his chair, “I’m sure they are.”

“Anyway, I didn’t come here just to remind you how great my ass looks,” he ignored the death glare Arthur sent his way, “Or just to agree with you that I’m hot as hell. I’m…” and for the first time since Arthur had met him, Alfred looked a little unsure of himself, and maybe even a bit insecure. It was a look that didn’t quite look natural on his features. “Well...Ludwig told me that we needed to start getting along a bit better, because if we did, we’d be a really functional unit, so...I just wanted to tell you, I...think you’re kind of hot as well. Monstrously attractive, really. Especially your voice. And your legs. And your eyebrows. Everything. And I’m sorry I’ve been disagreeing with you whenever you make proposals --I agree with most of them, I just like it when you get super angry and huffy. It’s a bit immature but completely adorable. And...yeah,” he took a deep breath, reeling a little from his diatribe. He also realized a little belatedly that he had given a speech about Arthur’s legs in the middle of a break room of coworkers who were now staring at the two of them unblinkingly. 

Arthur still hadn’t spoken, though he was looking at Alfred, slackjawed. It made the American slightly uncomfortable. 

“So...you have anything to say to me? I like your legs too Alfred? Your proposals are smart too? I hate you, never look at me again? I’ll take anything, really…”

“I’m the one who’s been putting bird nests in your office,” Arthur said hurriedly, his eyes never leaving Alfred’s.

“Well, I’m glad you said something, I was worried that--wait, WHAT?!?” 

\--------------

Unfortunately for Ludwig’s aspirations, Arthur and Alfred did not stop fighting amongst each other. If anything, their disagreements got more heated, saving face only when talking directly to the Secretary General or to foreign representatives. In Ludwig’s presence they still behaved like unruly children, arguing every point of a proposal until they (and Ludwig) were blue in the face. 

Still, some things did change. 

“Aren’t they going to miss us?” Arthur asked breathily, closing the door behind him and pulling at Alfred’s tie. 

“No one is going to miss you, baby,” Alfred said distractedly, missing the dirty look Arthur shot him, “now lets see my favorite pain-in-the-ass strip for Santa, hm?” 

“That’s not sexy, Alfred,” Arthur said, critically eyeing Alfred’s Santa hat, “And they will notice I’m gone. I made the food for this party!”

“Take me now, Arthur!!” Alfred suddenly requested and pushed Arthur into the wall. He kissed the shorter man roughly, pressing his body against Arthur’s eagerly. He was saving the party and sleeping with the most beautiful, intelligent, and hilarious person he’d ever met in his whole life. Overall, not a bad way to end the year. And not a bad way to begin the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really like this style of storytelling (snapshots vs full chapters) but this would have become a multi-chaptered story, and I think we all agree I don't need another one of those. I've got mostly-written chapters on my old computer, which has been taken hostage by my parents in the US, and no way am I asking them to look around my files and send me fan fiction about gay countries...
> 
> However, I do have the last chapter of Italian Job with me, as well as a few other things, so STAY TUNED. I also got a Mac, which means no more stupid PC problems, which means more content for y'alls. Woot.


End file.
